


help me leave these lonely thoughts behind

by budd



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkward Conversations, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Introspection, M/M, but important ones nonetheless, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28799166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/budd/pseuds/budd
Summary: Five times Patrick calls David hisbusiness partnerplus one time he calls him hisboyfriend.Title from "Ease My Mind" by Ben Platt
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 10
Kudos: 99





	help me leave these lonely thoughts behind

**Author's Note:**

> i had such a fun time writing my last 5+1, so i thought i'd do it again! this was also a wonderful opportunity to write a bit more from patrick's perspective as i tend to lean towards david's.
> 
> also, speaking of david, number five includes him, but it's FINE, this took me way longer than i feel like admitting to put together so let's roll with it, okay? okay. it's not beta'd, either.

**i.**

Today is unbearably slow at Rose Apothecary, but it isn't out of character for a Tuesday afternoon. In fact, Patrick's running spreadsheet of their number of sales as well as total revenue for each day since their "soft" launch would tell you Tuesday's are consistently their most under-performing day. This particular one, however, is _extra_ boring seeing as David is out of town to consult with a potential client. Patrick can't be upset at him, though, considering he was the one who scheduled the meeting for today _knowing_ it would be underwhelming at the store.

He stands at the register with his legs crossed underneath the table. Setting atop are both of his elbows, his cheek nestled in his right hand while his other is preoccupied by his phone. Patrick is aimlessly scrolling through his Facebook feed, silently catching up with family and friends from his _past_ life, that is, until he's met with a text from his mother. _How are you, honey?_ reads the message.

Sighing, Patrick reluctantly responds. He doesn't have the energy to chat at the moment, but he's never ignored his mom's attempts at contacting him and he doesn't plan on starting to now, or ever, for that matter. 

_Dreary_ is the best word he can muster up to describe the sheer lifelessness he's been accompanied by all morning.

 _How come?_ Patrick groans, knowing she won't give up their discussion anytime soon. As much as he adores talking to his parents, sometimes he's so drained where conversing is the absolute _last_ thing he wants to do.

Right now, Patrick wants David.

He wants to cuddle with him, to feel his warm, radiant body wrapped up in his arms.

He wants to caress him in a tangle of limbs, knees interlocked and ankles attached at the bone.

He wants to lie his head on David's shoulder, allowing him adequate access to the vein he knows he goes _crazy_ for.

He wants to engage in a marathon of _Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives_ , hastily peppering his body in lust-driven kisses during each commercial break, teasing him until he loses control and flips him on his back, submitting to David underneath his touch. 

He wants it _all_ with David; he's never been more sure of anything in his life regardless of the short time they've been... whatever they're labelling themselves. 

After pondering for a beat too long, he finally replies to the lingering message: _I'm waiting for my_ **business partner** _to come back from a vendor meeting._

_Business partner._

Even though all Patrick wants to do is call David as his boyfriend, he refuses to before he does. The last thing Patrick needs to screw up his first relationship with a man and not only that, but a perfect man who's what Patrick's been craving for his entire life without knowing so. 

_David, right?_

Patrick smiles at the mention of his crush. _What is this, fourth grade?_ He shakes his head, ridding his mind from all elementary level thoughts. _Mhm, I like him a lot._

That's innocent enough, right?

He isn't lying, either; Patrick _does_ like David a lot, just not in the context his mom will gather.

**ii.**

Patrick has been put on label pick-up duty for this specific week. The job may be awful, but it has to get done and if he can relieve even the most minuscule amount of tension from David's day by taking the trip to Elm Glen for him, he's more than happy to drive out of town. 

When he enters the printing shop, EG Prints, to be specific, he's surprised it seems to be a one-man operation, at least from what he's laid eyes on so far.

Across the room standing at an HP laserjet printer gathering what seems to be invoices is a person with shoulder-length black hair, the underside dyed a hot pink. Their legs are clad with black ripped-at-the-knees jeans, a white button down similar to the style Patrick is wearing tucked into the aforementioned pants. They don't look like the demographic Patrick associates with this kind of store, but he appreciates their outgoing confidence regarding their _look_ nonetheless. 

It reminds him of David.

He clears his throat, taking a step into the building from where he'd stopped in the middle of the doorway. "Good morning," Patrick begins. "I'm here to pick up for Rose Apothecary."

They make their way over to Patrick, gesturing him over to the cash register. "I take it you're David Rose?" 

Patrick shakes his head. "No, I'm—" He shuffles his feet underneath him, adjusting his position while promptly shoving his hands into the front pockets of his Levi's, a nervous habit he's exhibited for as long as he remembers. "I'm Patrick Brewer his... **business partner**." He mentally facepalms himself for the overly long pause before letting the words _business partner_ escape his lips. 

He lifts his head up from where it'd fallen at a laugh from in front of him. "You don't seem to sure of that." 

Scratching the back of his neck in a failed attempt to hide the blush creeping down his cheeks, Patrick nervously chuckles. "We're sort of together? Like, we kissed and I'm pretty sure we're dating, but I don't want to jump aboard the boyfriend ship if that's not the level he's on, you know? Anyway, that was a lot more information than you asked for, so I can just grab the labels and leave you alone." By the time he finishes, he's out of breath and the redness consuming the upper half of his body has morphed into an embarrassment induced heat. 

Panic aside, it felt... nice to Patrick, finally verbalising his increasingly anxious thoughts, even if it was to someone who's simply there to provide him with a product, not play therapist. 

They lean over the counter, a slight grin playing at the corner of their lips. "I've got time."

"What?" Patrick asks, furrowing his brows in confusion.

"Tell me about this _business partner_ of yours, he seems to have you pretty flustered." They drag out the beginning of the second syllable in _flustered_ for emphasis. 

**iii.**

Alexis wiggles her hips to adjust her position atop the table where their moisturiser stock lives. "You know, I don't think our customers would appreciated you sitting where their face products are."

She rolls her eyes, crossing her right leg over her left as she whips out her phone, presumably to text an old friend or scroll through her Instagram home tab for no more than a minute before getting bored and switching to the next social media app in her folder titled 📲❤️👀. "Nobody's gonna know, Pat."

He flicks his eyes up from behind his laptop. "Yeah, no, you're not calling me Pat."

"Why?" Alexis asks sincerely, setting her phone back down next to her lap where it was seconds prior. _That lasted long, he thinks_.

Sighing, Patrick intertwines his fingers, playing with the webbing between his index finger and thumb. "The only person who ever called me Pat was my grandmother and she passed away, so…" He trails of, placing his hands back at his side.

Without warning, Alexis is sauntering over to him a little _too_ happily considering what he'd just admitted to her. "I'm sorry. I'll try to remember not to call you as Pat, but no promises." 

She has the spirit, at least.

As if God was listening to his prayers to remove him from the situation at hand, the counter vibrates with a call from David. "That's my **business partner** , I should probably answer him." 

Patrick runs into the back room, ignoring whatever response his sister had to his last comment.

**iv.**

"Whatcha doing in here, Patrick?!" He practically leaps off his bed at the unexpected entrance by none other than Ray, of course, hitting his back on the sharp golden frame, or as David likes to call it, a lousy excuse of a headboard.

After catching his breath, he sets his pen on top of the stack of papers engulfing his mattress, taking him down in the process, too. "Inventory. My **business partner** didn't feel like doing it, so he pinned it on me. I don't mind, though."

Ray pads over to Patrick, sitting down next to him. "Why would you do that? You know what I say, if it isn't your work—"

"—then leave it someone else, yeah, yeah." 

There's an awkward pause lingering above them creating an unspoken tension between the two men. "You didn't answer my question."

Patrick's eyes snap back to Ray from where they'd previously been focused on a chair across the room. "What question?" He remembers, but he needs time to stall in order to come up with an answer that won't lead to an even longer interrogation. 

"Why are you doing David's work?"

He sighs for a moment, fighting back a smile in the process. "He's a good person and I enjoying doing favours for good people."

Ray smirks in a knowingly contort. "You must really _like_ him." 

Playing with the hem of his plain white sleep shirt, Patrick chuckles softly. "I-I do. I like him a lot." 

A comforting hand is placed on Patrick's knee. "I'm glad you found someone, Patrick."

"What's that supposed to mean?" He calls out, but is met with the response of a door slamming shut instead. 

In Patrick's chest is a knowing pull, a force trying to encourage him to have the "labels" discussion with David.

For the first time since the night of Alexis' graduation, Patrick invites him out with a simple text: _Can we meet outside the motel tomorrow? I wanna talk_.

It only takes a few seconds for David to get in touch with him. _If you're breaking up with me, you can just do it now; it'll save us both the stress_. 

_No, No,_ Patrick sends, continuing in a different speech bubble. _I actually wanted to taking about us and what we are_. 

_Then I'll meet you at 5 <3_

**v.**

When with met the sight of David, Patrick feels the same stir in his stomach he experienced seeing him for the first time. He's utterly _gorgeous._

Tonight, he's decided to wear a pair of black combat boots along with white leather skinny jeans. Those pieces alone was too much for Patrick to handle, but his black sweater with an abstract arrangement of white and grey lines tied the bottom half together so beautifully. 

Patrick doesn't take his eyes off of him until he's sat down next to him in _his_ car. Only then does he look away, redirecting his attention towards _anything_ else, but the lingering conversation. 

Contrary to their post-first kiss discussion, David opens his mouth to speak first. Patrick notices he's twisting one of his rings around his pointer finger, however, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he meticulously watches the aimless motions, extracted in the way David's hands move.

He's always loved— _liked_ —his hands, but in this moment, he finds comfort in the movement. There's something so mesmerising about how David is able to move so eloquently, even in a moment of clear, if not confronted, distress.

Cocking his head to the side, Patrick is jolted out of his trance at the sound of a groggily David.

"I um—" He clears his throat to rid himself of the raspiness; he's only half successful in this, though. Patrick doesn't mind. "I'm comfortable with whatever _you_ want to call us," He pokes a finger to Patrick's chest for emphasis. "I know that's definitely not the answer you're looking for, but I truly don't mind if it means you're happy and comfortable."

Patrick can't contain his grin. "I've been telling people we're **business partners** and, while that isn't _entirely_ false, I can't help but feel this... this nagging in my chest," He meets David's hazelnut orbs with his own, sucking in a breath while looking upward. "It's like—a burning desire to be say we're something more. I'm new to this whole being with guys thing, you know that, and I guess I didn't want to overstep by calling you my boyfriend if you weren't ready for it, but I _think_ I'm ready."

Patrick bows his head to brace for David's response. Initially, however, he doesn't say a word; he intertwines their fingers, rubbing a soft thumb across the back of Patrick's palm. Their hands are sitting on David's thigh and, regardless of the fact that they've been in bed together, it's the most intimately connected he's felt with another person. _This is what they mean when they say intimacy goes deeper than sex_ , he thinks to himself, straining his entire body to sure to use his brain-to-mouth filter, a function he's been lacking his fair share of recently. 

There's a soft noise beside Patrick. "I'd like that." David's voice is small, almost like he's a lost kitten, but unmistakably belongs to him. 

David's words don't leave him all night.

 _I'd like that, I'd like that, I'd like that_ ; it's chanting throughout Patrick's head, equivalent to a middle school indoor basketball cheerleading team. 

**+1**

It's the busiest day at Rose Apothecary since their opening and to say they're both worn out is an understatement, but Patrick manages to conjure up enough energy to visit the café across the street nonetheless.

When he enters, Twyla's head immediately snaps up, a Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face suit. "Hey, Patrick!" She exclaims, setting the glass she was preoccupied with cleaning underneath the bar top. "Have a seat, what can I get you today?" She gestures to the stool straight across from her.

Patrick obliges, crossing his arms and tapping his elbow repeatedly like he's a broken record. 

He could tell Twyla about his newly established relationship status. 

What's the worst that could happen, she gives him a hug and congratulations him?

He wouldn't mind that, actually, plus, there's no doubt in the back of his head that she _doesn't_ already know about their first kiss and maybe even their night at Stevie's based on all David's relayed to his sister who has a tendency to repeat things to Twyla unprovoked. 

It's been three days since their conversation and he has yet to call David his boyfriend, but it was all he's wanted for _weeks_ , so why is it so difficult now that he has his explicit permission to, the permission he waited what felt like an eternity for. 

_Patrick? Are you okay?_ A hand waves in front of his face and only then does he realise Twyla is trying to get his attention, not the raging voice taking over his whole body at the moment.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll have a blueberry banana muffin and my **boyfriend** will have his usual."

Twyla shimmies with her mouth hung agape, the corners perked up just the slightest bit. "I see you two have levelled up."

Patrick chuckles softly, setting his palms on his thighs to wipe away the layer of warm sweat that formed. "I guess we did." 

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill, if you enjoyed, feel free to leave a comment and/or kudos; i love hearing feedback from you guys, it really does inspire me to keep writing as cliché as it may be <3


End file.
